


Best Laid Plans

by Starrie_Wolf



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Bleach Suggestions, Crack, Inspired by Art, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starrie_Wolf/pseuds/Starrie_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://66.media.tumblr.com/b6951bf503dd8832b59181e56fa40145/tumblr_o69d4zsovu1vnupcyo1_500.png">this image</a>: </p><p>A domestic AU featuring Urahara who’s completely oblivious to the fact that his flatmate Aizen really wants to get into his pants, and ActualCat!Yoruichi being perpetually pissed off at the undesirable trespasser in her Queendom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_hyrule_shinigami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_hyrule_shinigami/gifts), [junko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/gifts), [Saranel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saranel/gifts).



> Originally [posted on Tumblr](http://hogyokusuggestions.tumblr.com/post/145001073925/hogyokusuggestions-aizensamasuggestions) as part of the Bleach Suggestions "roleplay" community.
> 
> Title is an intentional pun.

The Great Aizen Sōsuke was faced with a dilemma.

Two weeks ago, the man of his dreams had finally asked him to move in with him.

Now, such a glorious occasion wouldn’t normally be termed a _dilemma_ , per se, but for the matter of one teeny-tiny fact: despite all attempts to enlighten him, said man continued to be utterly oblivious to the fact that his new flatmate was quite taken with him.

Really, Urahara Kisuke was an exercise in frustration, even if Aizen somehow inexplicably found that obtuseness to be part of his charm.

~~And the perpetual just-rolled-out-of-bed look, complete with a five-o-clock shadow. But mention that on pain of death.~~

Compliments to his intelligence were accepted with bemused smiles and polite bows of gratitude. Deep longing sighs in his direction were met with offers of flu medication.

This simply could not be! He was the Great Aizen Sōsuke! Women throw themselves at his feet – he almost had to stab one of them to get away (thank you Gin)! One self-styled humble candy shop owner should have been no match for his sirenic allure!

“Yet again I have underestimated you, Urahara Kisuke.”

But now, for the Greater Good (™), it was time to begin stage two of The Plan (™).

~~Burning down his house wasn’t actually supposed to be a part of stage one, but it got him one step closer to his goal, so he’d die swearing it really was intentional.~~

* * *

Plan #1 was so basic it had to be foolproof. Urahara was well-known amongst their circle of friends to forget little things like food and sleep when he was in the middle of a project, and so what could be better than a home-cooked meal? The way to a man’s heart was through his stomach and all that jazz.

Pasta was a simple dish, everyone claimed. Boil water, boil pasta, heat up store-bought sauce in a pan, drain pasta, combine the two and serve. How could it possibly go wrong?

The smell of food must have roused Urahara from somewhere, for the man himself appeared in the kitchen before Aizen was quite done, yawning and scratching idly at one scruffy cheek. Aizen, who’d turned around to mutter a greeting, found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rumpled samue barely clinging to Urahara’s shoulders, the loose obi around his waist baring a generous swathe of chest and abdomen.

He was _so_ done for.

And so, apparently, was the pasta.

“Aizen-san, your dinner appears to be on fire.”

Envisioned: a romantic dinner concluded by heartfelt confessions of mutual adoration.

Reality: spending hours scrubbing out the saucepan while Urahara called for takeout.

Clearly, a home-cooked meal was out of the question, but Aizen wasn’t ready to abandon all hope yet. If he couldn’t cook, then surely taking Urahara out for dinner would suffice?

He tried to drop the suggestion casually. “It’s been a long time since we have gone out together, and I do believe it is only traditional to spend one’s first pay check at a new job on one’s friends.”

Urahara made noises of comprehension, and said he’d take care of the reservations. Good. That meant Aizen didn’t have to figure out where Urahara liked to eat. He did so love a well-crafted Plan coming together on its own.

That bubble of contentment buoyed him up until the moment he walked into the restaurant – one of the best sashimi bars around, Urahara had _brilliant_ taste – and found sixteen people instead of the one he’d been expecting.

Urahara waved to him from middle of the crowd. “You don’t know how hard it was to wrangle a time everyone was free!” He grinned brightly.

Aizen very calmly walked forwards, dropped into the seat left for him, and banged his head on the counter top.

Seated beside him, Shinji laughed.

It was time to stop being nice. Plan #3 was stunningly in its simplicity: he would ‘accidentally’ walk in on Urahara taking a shower, and then… well, things would work themselves out. All the ~~yaoi manga~~ research materials he’d consulted said they would.

Aizen eased the door open and tiptoed into the darkened room. His heart was thumping madly like all the manga said it would be – check. The faint sound of water running in the bathroom – check. Twelve more steps to the door.

Almost there… almost there –

His foot came down on something unexpectedly furry and squishy.

“ _Meowwwww!_ ”

And then his nether regions were _on fire_ ahhh make it stop someone put that demon spawn out of the misery of her existence – or him out of his misery, he wasn’t even picky –

The light flickered on.

Urahara’s face swam into view above Aizen, his gaze alternating in confusion between the man curled in foetal position on his bedroom floor to the cat spitting and hissing at him from the vantage of the bed. Aizen wished he’d had the presence of mind to properly enjoy the sight of Urahara clad only in a towel, but the truth was that he was in so much pain he didn’t even remember to look down.

How could he have forgotten that the bedroom was the primary domain of the Queen Hellcat, better known as the _bane of his existence_? How did a mere _cat_ manage to get into Urahara’s bed before _him_ , the Great Aizen Sōsuke?

No, no, Plan #4 was going to happen in broad daylight, where the Queen Hellcat’s dark fur would be clearly visible, featuring another well-documented phenomenon called _bringing one’s lover breakfast in bed_.

He’d been banned from touching the stove after the disaster that was Plan #1, so cereal and milk was going to have to do. Not very classy, but then, Urahara was presumably a simple man of simple tastes.

He slid the door open and made it halfway into the room before a low menacing hiss emanating from a shadowed corner caused his steps to falter, holding the bowl lower to act as a shield. Preventive measures, you understand.

“Uh… Aizen-san, I’m sure Yoruichi-san appreciates you bringing her breakfast, but I don’t think she eats cereal?”

Why was he doing this again?

Urahara sat up on his futon, rubbing at his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the way his sleep nemaki gaped open to reveal a chiselled abdomen.

Oh, _right_.

Subtlety clearly wasn’t working out. Very well.

Plan #5 wouldn’t involve any preparation. He was just going to lounge about naked on Urahara’s futon until the man in question came to bed. Surely even Urahara couldn’t misunderstand _that_?

This time, he was careful to make sure the Queen Hellcat was nowhere in the vicinity before he stepped into Urahara’s bedroom.

And waited.

And waited.

And –

– oh, he must have fallen –

Giant luminous eyes the size of saucers swamped the entire field of his vision.

“Ahhhhh!”

 _Scccratch_.

* * *

Urahara wandered into the kitchen some time around noon, the dark bags under his eyes a sure marker of another sleepless night spent in his laboratory.

“Eh? Aizen-san, what happened to your arm?”

“Papercut,” Aizen muttered, exchanging a death glare with the Queen Hellcat perched smugly upon Urahara’s shoulder.

Yoruichi extended a paw of razor-sharp claws.

Urahara yawned.


End file.
